


Where Angels Fear To Tread

by Whatocallmyself



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual, Consensual Sex, Consensual hate fucking, F/M, Surprisingly tame, smut for the sake of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatocallmyself/pseuds/Whatocallmyself
Summary: Piedmon sends LadyDevimon to check on Myotismon's progress. Bad weather means she has to stay put overnight but a big castle gets lonely. Quite tame depictions of sex scenes.





	Where Angels Fear To Tread

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to get back into smut writing thanks to some RP threads on Google Docs. Myotismon is possibly my most favourite character to write so of course I included him in this. I've always liked Lady and Myotismon as a pairing so have some hate sex between them.

‘Lord Piedmon is not at all happy with the amount of progress you have been making, Myotismon.’

Thin, ashen lips were pulled into a smirk. A strand of cobweb like hair fell across her cheek bone, the shadow of which protruded from under LadyDevimon’s hood.

The vampire sat in his throne, ankle tucked over his other knee, a half empty glass of a red something that wasn’t wine swirling in his hand which rested idly atop his raised knee.

Seemingly ignoring her words to start, Myotismon drank down the liquid, licking a droplet that lingered, ruby red even against the dark canvas of his lips.

She watched him, and he watched her watching him. This wasn’t the first time Piedmon had sent a womon to do a mon’s work, and Myotismon didn’t care for the impersonality of the errand running.

‘Please relay to Lord Piedmon that he should not fret, and although not outwardly, myself and my army are making progress towards our mission.’

Momentarily, LadyDevimon’s smirk dropped, restored a split second later as she transferred her weight from one foot to the other, hip cocking to the side.

‘Knowing you would give an answer like this, Lord Piedmon has ordered I am shown just exactly what you and your army are doing so I may give him a full report upon my return.’

‘A full report…’

It was a mumble, Myotismon tapping the glass against the sole of his boot as he spoke.

‘Very well,’ he said louder, raising to his feet. ‘If you return yourself to the main gateway of the castle, you will see several fortification points vastly improved since I took ownership of this castle from the Agents.’

He stepped down from the platform his throne sat atop, glass discarded on the arm of the chair. As his cloak dragged behind him, it pulled the glass to the floor, shattering as it landed. Someone else would clear it up later.

Approaching LadyDevimon, he made a gesture that she should follow.

‘Barracks have been built to house over a thousand troops if the numbers were to rise so high. A stock of grain and crops have been piled for winter so my army may continue on training and fighting to stop the advancement of whatever force Homeostasis sends to fight for it next.’

LadyDevimon followed obediently, smirk turning to an unamused pout as she walked through the castle.

‘I see you have had fun playing interior decorator,’ she said, glaring at the back of Myotismon’s head.

Without missing a beat, he replied.

‘Naturally. If I am to stay here, this castle must fit with my aesthetics.’

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes behind him. He didn’t care, naturally, but his lack of reaction to her attempts at riling him up were somewhat amusing. She’d been in this game longer than he, but she was a poor player despite her fickle teacher.

‘What else may I tell Lord Piedmon you have done?’

‘Just take a look around. Troop numbers are up, the castle has been rebuilt from ruin, and my research and finding of the key components for the gate to the human world is ahead of schedule.’

‘You know where it is?’ LadyDevimon asked, ears almost pricking up at his last news.

‘I have a very good idea. I just need a competent and trustworthy recruit who can go on the search.’

‘I’m sure Lord Piedmon would be able to spare me for a week or so.’

It was Myotismon’s turn to smirk. Stopping, he turned to LadyDevimon.

‘You did hear my requirements, yes?’ he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring, cussing him out in her head.

‘My loyalty to Piedmon is unquestionable-’ she began to argue, silenced by a deep chuckle from Myotismon.

‘Your incompetence is renowned even to me however,’ he said.

He saw her jaw clench, and a hand ball into a fist at her side.

‘Lay a finger on me and Piedmon shall hear of it,’ Myotismon warned, moving his face closer to LadyDevimon’s.

She tried to keep her composure, but this close, she could feel his breath creeping over her shoulder. He towered over her, even taller than Piedmon in fact, shoulders wider, chest broader.

Shivering, she pulled away from him, finding it hard to drop his intense gaze.

‘Is that enough to report back to your master?’ Myotismon asked, turning on his heels and beginning to walk away down the long corridor.

LadyDevimon followed a moment later, glaring at the back of Myotismon’s head again as he walked.

‘I’m sure it will be enough to satisfy him for now.’

‘We both know how easily he is satisfied, after all.’

She missed a step, and he heard her gait change, smirking to himself again.

‘I will do you the kindness of lending you my carriage for the trip back. It must be so hard to fly long distance with those tattered wings and there’s an awful storm blowing up.’

Again she faltered, gritting her teeth for the second time.

‘At least I have wings,’ she hissed to herself.

‘My dear, I don’t need them.’

How had he heard her?

As if to emphasise his point, she saw him lift a few inches from the ground, footsteps falling silent as he began to levitate down the corridor.

How badly she wanted to skewer him with her Black Wing attack. She wondered if the myths about staking a vampire through the heart were true? And if her spear would suffice? 

‘Phantomon will show you the rest of the way.’

She snapped from her reverie, finding them at the end of a passageway. Phantomon bobbed in the doorway ahead, head bowed and scythe lowered.

‘My Lord, I regret to inform you that I am unable to fly the carriage due to weather. The roads are flooded and you know the Devidramon will not fair such weather.’

Myotismon’s jaw tensed, but LadyDevimon spoke before he could.

‘Then I will have to make my own way back.’

‘I wouldn’t advise leaving until the storm at least subsides a little,’ Phantomon insisted, gaze flicking to Myotismon as he spoke, awaiting his reaction.

LadyDevimon stayed silent also, put out by the situation.

‘Fine,’ Myotismon said finally. ‘Have a guest apartment made up. You are free to stay until the weather dies down.’

Thanking him was beneath her. He had done her no favour. She could fly easily no matter the rain or thunder. But then, a night away from the chaos of the Dark Masters wouldn’t be the worst thing she could imagine.

‘I shall have it done over dinner sir,’ Phantomon said with a bow.

‘Of course.’

Myotismon turned to LadyDevimon.

‘Will you join me?’

‘You eat?’ she asked, genuinely surprised.

Every Digimon needed nutrients and energy from somewhere whether by food or drawing it from other places. She assumed Myotismon’s diet consisted solely of data or blood, not that she’d given it much thought before now.

‘I don’t have to,’ Myotismon replied with a nonchalant shrug.

‘Of course,’ she muttered, half rolling her eyes.

Phantomon’s head made a minute movement as he looked between the both of them, eyes narrowing slightly. 

There was a silence, broken finally by Phantomon.

‘Your dining room is set, sir.’

‘You may get back to your post,’ Myotismon told Phantomon. ‘Come.’

LadyDevimon quickly realised he meant for her to follow as he turned and walked back down the corridor, turning a different way to which they had started. Admittedly, she was a little uneasy with the situation now being “off duty” of sorts. Piedmon had told her what to do up until now. Grill Myotismon, find out what he was doing, don’t fall for any of his illusionary tactics. Now, she was on her own. She decided she would let Myotismon take the lead, and hopefully get dinner over quickly so she may retire and get morning here quicker.

The dining room was large, but plainly decorated. A large table ran down the centre of the room, with two places set, one was at the head of the table, and, much like his throne, had an ornately carved chair at it. The other place was a third of the way down the left of the table. A comfortable distance away from Myotismon, LadyDevimon was happy to see.

Before she could cross the room, Myotismon was at the less grandier chair, pulling it out.

‘Sit,’ he told her.

She felt her lip curl into a snarl at him ordering her like one of his servants.

‘Please?’ he added a moment later when she did not move.

Better, she thought to herself, still unimpressed by his mannerisms. He could feign being a gentleman all he liked, she’d seen him tear one of Piedmon’s Vilemon limb from limb in three seconds flat.

Sitting herself at the table, Myotismon set himself at his place, a set of doors at the other end of the room opening on cue and a pair of Gazimon silently bringing two trays of food to the table, setting them in front of both LadyDevimon and Myotismon - the latter first.

She wasn’t hungry, and neither was he, judging by how little he ate, but his smirk returned when one of the Gazimon returned with a bottle of wine.

Myotismon took it from the table where the Champion set it and rose from his seat, walking to LadyDevimon and pouring her a glass. The wine was red, and smelt fruity rather than metallic thankfully.

He returned to his seat and poured himself a glass, LadyDevimon waiting until he had taken a sip before drinking it herself.

‘Do you really think I would be so impersonal as to poison you?’ Myotismon asked.

‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’

The drink was strong and left a bitter aftertaste, but it was nothing she couldn’t swallow down.

‘If I wanted to kill you I would have done it by now. And I much prefer feeling my victim’s heartbeat fade under my fingertips.’

‘Of course,’ LadyDevimon sighed with a roll of her eyes.

She hadn’t been drunk in quite a while, but maybe tonight would be a change in that. If she wanted to make it the night that was.

‘Do you think you scare me? Or anyone for that matter?’ she asked after taking a sip.

He remained silent, a cocky smirk twitching at his lips.

‘You really think you’re intimidating. But you’re just like any other man. All bark, no bite…’

She took another sip, more this time.

‘And definitely no balls.’

His smirk spread, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

‘At least I can handle my drink.’

LadyDevimon let out a shrill laugh.

‘But you don’t deny-’

‘I chose not to drop to below the belt insults.’

She laughed again, finishing the last of her drink, noticing something at the bottom of the glass.

‘What did you put in here?’ she snapped, getting up from her chair, sending it rocking back and teetering on the brink of falling backwards.

‘Don’t blame your insobriety on me. As I said, I have no need or want to poison you. There is often residue from the fruit in a bottle that has been resting for a while.’

‘Bullshit and you know it,’ she barked.

Myotismon rolled his eyes and went to her, pushing her back into her chair before the swaying of her body unbalanced her.

She looked up at him, brow furrowing under her hood.

‘Why the fuck are you so pretty?’ she asked.

‘Why the fuck are you such a pain?’

She sighed and tilted her chin up, resting her head back against the chair and arching her back.

‘You swore,’ she said, in a tone similar to Puppetmon’s when he had a toy no one else did.

‘We’re not Rookies, LadyDevimon,’ Myotismon sighed. ‘I’ll have someone take you to your room.’

‘No!’ she said, jumping up from her chair, headbutting Myotismon in the process. ‘Shit.’

She said, sobering, recoiling, but not feeling guilty when he stepped back with a hand on his forehead.

‘If you don’t go I’m afraid what destruction you will reek on my castle,’ Myotismon said, turning his back on her.

LadyDevimon would have expected him to have retaliated. Her head was numb from the drink, but it throbbed where she’d hit him.

Half jumping in front of him, she grabbed his hand and pulled it away, standing on tiptoes to frown at his head.

‘There’s not even a mark,’ she chided.

Stiffening, Myotismon’s hand balled into a fist. LadyDevimon felt it under her grip and let her gaze fall from his forehead to his eyes, which had narrowed, and his jaw which had tightened.

‘Remove your hand,’ he ordered.

‘Why?’ she asked, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.

‘Remove it or I shall remove it for you,’ he growled.

She laughed, a smirk forming on her lips.

‘There you go again, being all big and scary, but you just sound like a kitten trying to roar, and failing miserably.’

Her fingertips began trailing up his forearm, over the inside of his elbow, and finally up his bicep before he took her hand firmly and stopped her, throwing it away from him.

‘You’ve drunk too much, too quickly, so I will let this one go, but if you-’

‘Oh shut up! You’re not scaring anyone,’ she yelled into his face.

Jaw clenched as tight as it could be without snapping his fangs, Myotismon tried to push past her and leave, but she grabbed him again, tripping over her own feet and landing against his chest.

Straightening, she bit her lip, waiting for him to act.

When he didn’t, LadyDevimon stretched up on her toes again and did something she was sure she would have no inkling to do if she were sober. She kissed him, and he kissed her back, turning them and backing her against the table. She lifted herself so she was just perched on the edge, wrapping her arms around the back of Myotismon’s neck.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and pulled her arms from around him.

‘Stop it,’ he said, gripping her forearms.

‘That was you as much as it was me,’ LadyDevimon pointed out. ‘And I don’t think you really want to stop.’

She raised her knee between his legs, pressing against his crotch, gentle enough to not hurt him for now.

‘You don’t really want this. You’re drunk.’

‘I’ve made worse decisions whilst drunk,’ she shrugged.

Pulling her arms back, he moved into her again, this time his hands releasing her arms and going to her waist, creeping down as she pressed her lips against his again.

Her hand crept down his body, replacing her knee between his legs, teasing the ache growing there. As she massaged him, she ran her tongue over his bottom lip, catching on one fang, Myotismon pulling her flush against him at the taste of blood on her lips.

Pushing him back, breaking the kiss, LadyDevimon undid the belts at his waist, making quick work of his jacket and trousers, revealing a pale, broad chest. She ran her fingers over the muscles at his stomach before dipping her hand down his waistband, teasing him again. Glancing at him, she found his head bowed, bottom lip tucked under a fang and his eyes closed.

Was he that easy to work up? She wondered what would happen if she…

Pulling his trousers down, she pushed him back a little more so she could kneel in front of him without her head against the table. Then, staring up at him, she let her tongue drag up the underside of his length, slowly, deliberately, drawing her head back when she reached the tip.

Myotismon shivered, opening his eyes and looking down at her. A frown flickered across his face before he reached down and pulled LadyDevimon’s hood back, untucking her hair from her collar.

It was her turn to frown, not expecting such a gentle touch from him. She felt his hand wrap in her hair, keeping it out of her face as she continued teasing with her tongue, checking on Myotismon’s reactions every so often before taking him in her mouth.

She continued to check on him, moving her lips back and forth, teasing with her tongue, feeling his hand grip her hair tighter, his hips moving against her. He tasted like the wine, bitter, but not unpleasant. Myotismon bit his lip, head tipping back and she decided now was a good time to stop so she might have her way.

As she stood, Myotismon kept a looser hold of her hair, using it to pull her towards him so he could kiss her again, then, stepping forward and pressing LadyDevimon against the table behind. Leaving her hair, his hands travelled down her shoulders and front, stopping at the stretched leather over chest.

Smirking, he pulled the taught lace that held the material over her chest, tugging it until it gave way.

She glared at him, but didn’t stop him as his hands went to her breasts, cupping the flesh, squeezing slightly.

After a minute, his hands travelled lower, going to her hips and unbuckling her belt, tossing it to the floor. He made a slow show of pulling his gloves from his hands, putting them on the table behind LadyDevimon. Then, his bare hands travelled back up her waist and further to her ribs, taking the folded top of her suit in both hands and ripping the front seam all the way down between her legs.

Her toned stomach was raised in goose flesh as the cool air of the dining room hit her skin. Running a finger over the divide of her muscles, Myotismon brushed further down, dipping a finger below the soft white hair at her pubic bone.

As he pressed his middle finger into her, LadyDevimon gripped the edge of the table with both hands, tilting her hips forward, chest rising as Myotismon withdrew a little.

‘Good?’ he asked quietly, thumb rubbing the mound of tender flesh above his finger.

She nodded her head, mouth dry and words sticking in her throat.

Pressing into her again, deeper, he felt her wetness coat his fingers, her knees parting as her head tipped back.

With her eyes closed, she didn’t see Myotismon licking his lips as he stared intently at her body, seeing her reactions as he pressed his finger in and out of her again, moving with her subconscious rocking of her hips.

When she was wet enough, he pushed another finger into her, her restraint giving way as she let out a shuddering moan.

Feeling himself twitch at her expression, Myotismon’s idle hand swept the hair from LadyDevimon’s neck. Leaning into her, hips pressed against her thigh, he grazed his fangs against her pale neck.

In a heartbeat, she’d grabbed him by the back of his head, a handful of short blond hair in her fist. His fingers crooked forward inside of her at the unexpected jolt and a hiss of pain came from her.

‘Let go,’ he growled, curling his fingers a touch more.

‘Bite me and you’ll be sorry,’ she hissed, wriggling her hips away from the pain.

They stayed locked in the discomfort for a beat before releasing each other at the same time. Myotismon moved his fingers so only the tips of them were against her, giving her a moment for the pain to die down. LadyDevimon meanwhile tensed and untensed her stomach, gritting her teeth, wanting nothing more than to kick Myotismon between his legs.

Glancing down, she was surprised to see him still erect, glistening droplets adorning the pink flesh.

She went to move her hand to him, stopped by him grabbing her wrist, pulling her, turning her body around, waist locked against the table as he pressed his hips against her, slipping between her thighs.

‘Really?’ she asked, sigh cut off with a moan as Myotismon wrapped a hand into her hair, pulling her head back.

She bucked her hips, gripping the edge of the table, teeth biting into her bottom lip as his hand ran up her outer thigh.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t like it,’ he growled, running his hand under the curve of her rear, dipping between her legs again before pushing her leg apart.

‘Not from the likes of you,’ she hissed back.

As his fingers teased against her again, she pushed back, feeling him twitch against her thigh.

‘Why the hesitation?’ she asked.

‘I’m wondering if I really want to my lower myself to this standard, when there is so much better out there?’

She tried to turn her head, stopped by his hand tightening in her hair. LadyDevimon dug her fingers into the table as his hand left her, guiding himself, hips tilting forward as he pressed himself into her.

‘Fu- Myo…’

Taken aback by the feel of him, with his hand at her waist, pulling her hips into him, she silenced herself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say his name. 

He moved slow to begin with, nails digging into her hip as he moved back and forth, fist tightening in her hair as he felt her tightening around him. He had to admit, she felt good around him, and hearing her swallow back moans was satisfying.

Withdrawing almost fully, he paused, feeling her shake beneath him, seeing her hands leave the edge of the table to stretch in front of her, he put his lips to her ear.

‘If you leave nail marks on my table, I’ll make you take me in your mouth as I finish,’ Myotismon warned, smirking as she let out a hiss.

He pushed forward, bringing her back to him as he did, beginning to move back and forth and settling into a rhythm, his eyes closing as he lost himself to the moment.

Her back swayed, raising to her tiptoes to meet him every time he pressed deep into her. She allowed her eyes to close, forgetting who was behind her and how much she hated him. Had he put something in her drink? She’s certainly never thought of him this way before, but she would consider it again. He felt good, he knew how to move, and as his nails pierced through her flesh, she let out a moan, her own hands balling into fists atop the table.

‘Good girl,’ she heard Myotismon mutter from behind her.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she hissed back, hand moving from the table to grip his hand at her side.

He moved, grabbing her wrist and locking her arm behind her, other hand releasing her hair to lift her thigh, balancing her knee atop the table.

She hissed again, swallowing back a moan as he pressed into her harder, faster. He was getting close, she could tell, and she questioned him about it.

‘Shut up,’ Myotismon warned, twisting her arm further up her back.

‘You’re disappointing,’ she teased.

Her wetness was too much, pushing him too quickly. He wouldn’t admit out loud, but she felt good. However, her attitude needed adjusting. Hand leaving her thigh, he wrapped it around the front of her throat, holding, not choking her - yet.

‘I’ll show you disappointing.’

He adjusted himself, pushing up into her more, a stifled moan telling him he’d hit the right spot. He moved slower now, deliberately, her moans harder to suppress as he did.

LadyDevimon knew if she bit her lip any harder, she’d bite through it, but her pride was telling her to not let him know she was enjoying this so much. His hand at her neck was annoying. She couldn’t tilt her head back, so settled on opening her mouth, letting heavy breaths come as he continued to tease her.

‘Fuck,’ she whispered, feeling her stomach flip, tensing, toes curling in her boots as her back arched more.

She wasn’t so romantic as to describe an orgasm as earth moving or as the best she had felt, but as her insides tightened around him, pushing him closer, she allowed herself to moan, shivering, staying tense as her body was taken by waves of pleasure. Her hand tried to balance her on the table but failed, uncontrollable spasms locking her fingers into fists as she struggled against Myotismon’s grip.

She repeated herself, feeling Myotismon’s hand at her throat tighten and nails dig into her wrist. He was close, very close, hips ceasing, shuddering against her back as he throbbed inside her, a warm feeling soothing her own aches and aftermath as he released himself, her sudden tightness driving him to climax.

For a moment, they stayed close, an almost pained expression on Myotismon’s face, unseen by LadyDevimon as he relaxed. The thought to kiss her neck again entered and left Myotismon’s mind as some strange imagining of affection and gratitude.

He let out a breath, releasing her finally. Knees weak, she clung to the table for support, the body behind her hesitating before pulling out. Moving as little as she could, she pulled her tattered suit back up her legs, remembering it had been ripped.

‘I have no clothes,’ she stated, turning to Myotismon, thighs aching and protesting the movement.

‘You hardly did before,’ he retorted.

Tying the scraps at her waist, she folded her arms over her chest, shielding herself from him. He was already half dressed, trousers up and closed, shirt pulled from his jacket.

‘Here,’ Myotismon said, shoving his shirt into her arms. ‘I’ll have someone bring you something to wear on your journey home.’

She nodded, stopping herself from thanking him - it was his fault she was in this situation after all.

She pulled the shirt over her head, untucking her hair from the collar and running her hands through it.

‘You better not have left any marks,’ she said, feeling at her tender neck.

‘Why? Worried what Piedmon might think?’

She glared at him.

‘You know full well-’

‘Please, Piedmon sees you as nothing more than a diplomatic tool. He planned this, hoping you will keep me sweet to him.’

She’d been used. Of course.

LadyDevimon grit her teeth, trying to think of a remark.

‘Well,’ she began. ‘Nice to know you were thinking of Piedmon whilst you fucked me.’

‘Go to bed LadyDevimon. Phantomon will show you to your room.’


End file.
